


Slip Away

by B4DW0LF



Category: Saw (Movies)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicidal Thoughts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 05:32:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12074475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B4DW0LF/pseuds/B4DW0LF
Summary: Lawrence turns to leave the room that has caused him so much pain, only to find something that will only bring him more, a tape recorder and a familiar voice.





	Slip Away

“What the fuck are you doing?! _What the_ fuck _do you think you’re doing_?!”

 

Lawrence smirked as he turned and faced the door, ready to leave Hoffman there alone. As he turned to make his leave, his foot collided with something. A scraping sound met his ears as the object glided across the floor. He furrowed his brows and looked down, a small gray tape recorder sat about a foot away from him.

 

Lawrence remembers that tape recorder all too well, and he is suddenly filled with the compulsion to listen to it again—to hear the distorted voice of the man that locked them in this awful room. Perhaps listening to it again can give him a sense of clarity, of finality. That all has been said and done and he isn’t the same person he was before.

 

He bent down and pocketed it, he’ll have to listen to it later as Hoffman is currently shouting obscenities at him, and he has a job to finish. Lawrence walks out the door and faces him, his final words to the man being the words that so many others have heard before him—“ _Game over_.”

 

Lawrence returned to his apartment shortly thereafter. The place in which he now calls home, even though it often doesn’t feel like it. He doesn’t have much, but it’s all he really needs since his divorce. Two bedroom two bath, the extra rooms for Diana in the _hope_ that Alison will let her stay over someday. He tries to keep the space as “homey” as he can but it sort of looks like something from a catalog. Like nobody really lives there.

 

Sometimes it doesn’t really feel like he does.

 

After locking the front door Lawrence moves through the living room and into the kitchen. He doesn’t bother to turn on the harsh lights, instead allowing the living room lamps illuminate the kitchen. It’s still dark but he doesn’t care. He rests his cane up against the counter and sheds his coat that’s still somewhat damp from the rain. Pulling the tape recorder out of his pants pocket, he sets it on the counter and presses play before heading toward the refrigerator.

 

“Dr. Gordon,” The voice starts, distorted and cold. It sends a shiver down his spine, bringing back memories he had fought hard to forget. Maybe he shouldn’t listen to it again. “This is your wake up call. Every day of your working life, you have given people the news that they are going to die soon.”

 

Lawrence pulls a beer out from the back of the fridge, closing the door and popping off the cap.

 

“Now _you_ will be the cause of death. Your aim in this game is to kill Adam. You have until six on the clock to do it. There’s a man in the room with you—when there’s that much poison in your blood the only thing left to do is—

 

“—ah, shit, is this thing working?”

 

He stops dead in his tracks, the beer in his hand nearly falling to the floor. He sets it down on the counter, his eyes wide as he listened to the voice. An all too familiar one.

 

“I hope I’m doing this right. Uh, this is Adam—Adam Stanheight—and if you’re listening to this, well shit, I’m probably dead.”

 

Lawrence moved to pause the tape, taking a seat on the bar stool in front of him.

 

He knew. This wasn’t some big surprise, the tape certainly _was_ , but he knew Adam was alive and still chained to that pipe while he was free. As free as he could be in the presence of Jigsaw, who took care of him and nursed him to health even though he was dying himself. Even though _Adam_ was dying. Locked in that God-forsaken room. Cold and alone.

 

He left him alone.

 

Lawrence rests his head on the counter and takes a shaky breath, things he tried to forget resurfacing. He can still hear Adam speaking over the tape recorder.

 

“I was, uh, I was kidnapped by the Jigsaw guy. Think that’s his name. But if you’re hearing this, you probably already knew that. Originally what was on this tape, was… _instructions_ on how to play his little “game.”

 

“But I figured that wasn’t that important. Evidence be damned, you know the motherfucker that did this to us.” Adam pauses, voice catching in his throat.

 

“Yeah, there were uh, two of us. Lawrence. He was a doctor. I don’t know much else about him or even if he made it out alive he… he lost a lot of blood after… well, you should know. And I hope you know that his wife and kid were kidnapped too. I don’t know where they are, or if they’re okay, but… I hope they are.”

 

Adam clears his throat.

 

“Back, uh, back to what I was saying. I decided to record over this tape so I don’t lose my fucking mind because I don’t know how long I’m going to be here. I don’t even know how long I’ve _been_ here. Could be days, could be weeks, I don’t know. I’ve slept so much that it feels like months have passed but… I don’t know. I don’t…”

 

The last part of his sentence trails off, his thoughts wandering.

 

“I guess I should also say that he shot me. I want to say it now so that in the chance that he did somehow survive he won’t be, fuck I don’t know, charged with my murder or something. I don’t know much about that stuff, just what I watch on Law and Order.”

 

“Fuck,” His voice wavers. “I just wish he was a better shot.”

 

Silence stretches and Lawrence can feel the weight of it emanating from the recorder. Then a _click._ Lawrence check to see if the recording has stopped, but the sound of the microphone being bumped meets his ears.

 

“I think… I think it’s working. It’s hard to tell in the dark.” He clears his throat. “This is my second recording. Stardate: _whatever._ “

 

Lawrence laughs.

 

“I still don’t know what day it is. But it hasn’t been long since my first recording. I figure I can just start and stop every once in a while to get the best use out of the tape, because fuck knows how long I can actually record on this thing. I might have to do it again once the tape runs out, to keep myself occupied.” He laughs bitterly.

 

“As if I’d be able to tell. But I suppose if this is the only recording you find, and I don’t sound like a raging lunatic talking to a damn tape recorder, then I haven’t made any more… at least I have something to do besides sleep and stare at nothing.”

 

This is painful to hear. This is his first and only recording, and he knows this—Lawrence knows he’s gone—but to _hear_ his voice right before…

 

“The uh, the pain in my shoulder is getting worse, and it’s like, radiating heat. Which is fuckin’ weird, considering I’m cold as shit.” He sighs, breath hitting the microphone causing it to blow out. “So that can’t be good. I’m fucking _hungry_ , too. Which isn’t as big of an issue, I’ve not eaten for weeks just for the hell of it, but I _am_ thirsty, and I know I should be worried about that.”

 

“I think I’m going to go to sleep.” Adam let’s out a small chuckle, mood feeling somewhat brighter at the mere idea. “I feel like I’ve been awake for longer than normal, and my shoulder really fucking hurts. So, Goodnight, dear listener.”

 

The tape recorder stops. Lawrence’s heart drops into his stomach. That _can’t_ be his last recording. _No, no, no, no_ —

 

Lawrence grabs the tape recorder and pops the cassette out, turning it on it’s B-side in the hopes that Adam had the same idea.

 

It’s quiet. Quiet for so long that Lawrence can feel his eyes beginning to burn. He wanted to hear more,he wanted to hear his voice again.

 

“Third—fourth? No, _third_ , recording.” Adam’s voice fills the room and Lawrence breathes a sigh of relief. But should he really be relieved? He pushes the thought back, focusing on Adam’s voice.

 

“Yeah, this is my third recording. Stardate: fuck you.”

 

Lawrence laughs lightly, unable to help the small smile that makes his way across his lips.

 

“The pain in my shoulder is getting worse. I can hardly move my arm and I think I’m getting sick. I’m _cold_ and _sweating_ and _fuck_ my head hurts. And I’m so exhausted I don’t know how long I slept for. I don’t even remember when I did my last recording. I… don’t really remember much at all.”

 

He can hear the sound of the chain rattling in the background as he shifts positions.

 

“I’m more tired than I was before. Shit, I’m fucking _exhausted._ I clearly haven’t fucking moved but I feel like I ran a marathon _and_ got the shit beaten out of me.”

 

Lawrence knows what’s wrong.

 

Infections can take a deadly toll on your body if left untreated. Sepsis has probably long since started, which would explain why he feels so exhausted. His body will try to fight off the infection but in the end it’ll only get worse. Next comes organ failure, if that hasn’t already happened.

 

He wished he didn’t know what was wrong, the pain he will be in is excruciating. He will slowly get worse and worse.

 

“I don’t know how much more of this shit I can take.” There’s an edge to his voice, something hard and distant.

 

“I wish…” His voice falters, unable to find the right words. “I wish I could make this stop.”

 

Adam inhales harshly.

 

“If I had a gun or a knife or a r—“ Adam stops with a shuddering breath, but Lawrence knows where this train of thoughts goes.

 

“Don’t think like that.” Lawrence whispers to the emptiness in his apartment, his eyes burning.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” A sob echoes from the tape recorder. It’s so sudden it startles Lawrence. Adam’s harsh and steadily increasing breaths emanate from the recorder. Lawrence instantly wishes he could unhear it.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_!”

 

The tape recorder falls from Adam’s hands, meeting the tile floor with a clatter. His curses begin to fade into an inelegant cry with the intensity of someone throwing up on their hands and knees.

 

Lawrence swallows hard, his eyes sting as he brings a shaking hand up to his mouth.

 

“Why did you have to leave?”

 

Tears begin to roll down his cheeks quietly until the words that come from the recorder make his throat seize. He squeezes his hand harder over his mouth.

 

“Why did you leave me? _Why?_ ” He’s hyperventilating now, words coming out broken and strained.

 

Lawrence buries his face into his hands as his crying begins to worsen.

 

“ _Please come back_.” Adam gasps and he almost doesn’t hear it over his own sobbing, but the words bring Lawrence back to their final moments together in that horrid place, clinging onto Adam and trying to tell him that it’s going to be alright all he needs to do is get help.

 

That he’ll be back for him.

 

_That he wouldn’t lie to him._

 

God, what a fucking _liar_. How could he have done that? How could he have left him there to die alone? What kind of fucking human being does _that_? Adam didn’t even _deserve_ to be in there. Adam wasn’t a piece of shit like he was, he shouldn’t have been in that room.

 

“I’m so sorry, Adam.” Lawrence sobs quietly in comparison to the awful ragged sobs coming from the tape recorder. He knows he can’t hear him.

 

“I’m sorry _._ ” Lawrence struggles to get the words out. “God, I’m _so sorry_.”

 

For a while, it’s just them. They’re both trapped in that room together, no longer able to scream or plead for an invisible entity to have mercy, no longer able to hope… no longer able to give one another comfort in words or in presence.

 

Lawrence wishes he could take all of it back. _Yes,_ he’s learned his lesson—John has taught him a lot but Maybe things could have been better.

 

Maybe he could have been a better husband, a better father, a better _human being._ He should have appreciated life, should have appreciated the things he had, and maybe none of this would have ever happened. Maybe then, he could have met Adam under different circumstances. Maybe they could have—

 

A voice in the back of his mind, one that sounds far too much like John, reminds him that no matter what happened, no matter how much he’d of tried and how much he wished, he’d still end up here. He would still cheat on his wife, he would still treat his patients like shit, he would still lose his foot, and he would still end up breaking a promise.

 

It isn’t long before Lawrence looks down at the tape recorder, eyes bleary and breathing haggard, that he realizes it’s stopped.

 

Now all that’s left is what might have been.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is based off of the song "Slip Away" by Josh Garrels. It's a great song, and I thought it fit the two characters rather nicely. 
> 
> Apologies if there are any mistakes, I've been working on this for a while and it's gotten to the point where I just needed to post it and stop messing with it. Hope you enjoyed the read!


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